


Don't You Ever Wonder?

by Nilhenwen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilhenwen/pseuds/Nilhenwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan and Padme walk the fields of Naboo and discuss the intricacies of Jedi Life</p><p>Meta-fic with a bit of pre-romance</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Ever Wonder?

“I could never understand it,” Padmé admitted, a gentle shake of her head as her eyes dropped to the dirt path beneath them, leading inexorably towards the façade of waterfalls.  
  
“It is a complex and confusing concept,” Obi-Wan admitted thoughtfully, “one that not even the oldest of Jedi have mastered.”  
  
“It never made sense to me,” she gave a shrug, a ghost of her senatorial demeanour layering her words, “it always seemed contradictory.”  
  
“Many would argue that the Jedi ideal does contradict itself. That one cannot experience love without favouritism, relationship without attachment, compassion without selfishness.”  
  
“How can love be selfish?” she frowned, certain that it was yet another contradictory statement.  
  
“The irrational love of one thing above all others,” Obi-Wan stated quietly. “It is a difficult concept to master.”  
  
“All love is irrational. And love cannot be mastered,” she argued, passion colouring her voice. She smiled upon hearing herself and relaxed her hunching shoulders. “Like I said, I could never come to terms with your ideals.” Ideals which are archaic and cruel, but she would not be so contrite in the face of one who lived his life by them. “He was never able to explain it well,” she offered, her voice becoming softer, gentle with the words- like they were deadly.  
  
But Obi-Wan smiled. “No, I imagine he couldn’t.” His voice held an undeniable fondness and Padmé wondered at it.  
  
“Perhaps you could help me understand, Master Jedi,” she said, turning to him. Her sudden halt caused him to move a few steps away before turning to face her. “Maybe you could more adeptly meld my cynical, political mind around the concept?” The words would have been sharp had they not been spoken through her wide smile.  
  
“I can do my best, but I am unsure of where to begin,” he said with a gracious nod, aligning with her false proprietary air.  
  
“Why don’t we start with relationship without attachment?” she suggested, quoting perfectly his earlier iamb. She was the first to recommence their stroll and he quietly followed her lead. “I thought the words were one in the same.”  
  
“Contrary to popular belief, the Jedi are not taught to repress our emotions,” he said, sending her a glance. She watched him closely, only flicking occasional glances ahead. “We are taught rather to control them, to be careful with them. Emotions, when out of control are what cause problems, hate and anger- irrationality. If the Jedi, as is commonly thought, did not form relationships, we would be mere machines. In fact, we form many relationships, the first and strongest likely with our Master when we become Padawan learners. We don’t become apprenticed to a single Master until the age of thirteen. It is thought any earlier attempt at such a powerful bond would be foolish and dangerous. Premature.”  
  
“Are you telling me you form no relationships until you’re thirteen?” she asked, trying to halt the incredulous rising of an elegantly arched eyebrow.  
  
“No. Of course we will have formed friendships with our year mates; know the Knights who teach us in classes as knowledgeable friends to be respected-“  
  
“But what about before that?” Padmé questioned, unable to help cutting him off. “I’m correct in saying that you are taken from your birth parents when very young?”  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. “About the age of two, three at the very latest.”  
  
“You must understand, that from the outside it appears cruel?” she ventured carefully. “To remove a young child from the only thing they know and throw them into an Order that teaches separation?”  
  
“But we do not. We teach that relationships are a healthy and necessary part of life, but something that must be controlled and unselfish.”  
  
“A child is bonded to its mother by the age of three,” she shot skeptically.  
  
“Yes, most likely, which is why the younger the better.”  
  
“So they can be indoctrinated?”  
  
“So that they are taught the proper practices from birth. An untrained Force-sensitive is a powerful and dangerous thing to behold. They don’t understand themselves nor the world around them. Nor the effect they have on it or why. How to control it. It’s traumatic. At the Temple, a young baby learns that they will be safe, but they will also be expected to problem-solve for themselves. They will be independent but they will have friends.”  
  
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much to expect from a three-year-old?”  
  
“Generations have managed it. Do you not think it would be crueler to introduce them to the concept of controlled relationships at nine or ten? When they’ve experienced it and are now not allowed it?”  
  
“But I don’t understand why it’s necessary? Love can only be good!”  
  
“Not when it gets out of hand. We are expected to serve the people, serve the… galaxy, and most of all serve the Force. We are expected to be selfless, and think of others before ourselves.”  
  
“Which surely is the definition of love?” Padmé insisted.  
  
“Love can become selfish. When we sacrifice other things for the sake of what we love, it is unhealthy. As a Jedi, we are expected to choose the greater good. What if we were put in the position of choosing, say, a single person that we loved, over the lives of ten others?”  
  
Padmé was quiet for a moment, the first time during the conversation that she had not accepted a break to speak herself. Her mind buzzed.  
  
“It would be a difficult decision. That is not a difficulty, nor a hesitation that a Jedi can afford to make.” Obi-Wan’s eyes were soft, and within them she saw infinite sadness.  
  
“That may be so,” she offered, “but can you really believe that it is right to impress such things upon people before they’re old enough to even understand it?”  
  
For the first time Obi-Wan gave a shrug, and seemed to think about his answer. “My life was chosen for me. The same way the lives of every clone on the battlefield are determined before they even come into existence.”  
  
“That is not a democratic practice.”  
  
“We are not forced to stay. If we wish we may leave the Order. Many have,” Obi-Wan said. It was a topic not often talked about. His hands were deep in his sleeves, folded across his front as they walked slowly. They had almost reached the deep waters of the lakes.  
  
“The clones do not have the same choice,” Padmé lamented, regarding the softening dirt path beneath their feet.  
  
“The clones are an entirely different argument,” the Jedi heaved a sigh. “They are created for a single purpose, and they find pleasure in fulfilling that purpose. It is not a bad life.”  
  
“They’ve never known anything else. They are much like the Jedi, Obi-Wan,” the Senator tried. “Taught the way to act and to behave and to think. And told it is the only way.”  
  
“We are not so structured in our upbringing. There is a diverse culture within the Jedi Order. Not all of us are fighters; we have many academics, artists, philosophers.” His eyes flitted across the bright skyline above the tumbling waters. “But all are as able to wielding the Force as any of us. Just in different ways. We are allowed our own thoughts an opinions.”  
  
“Thoughts and opinions shaped by your upbringing. And expected still to take whatever orders come your way.”  
  
“Much the same as the Senate,” Obi-Wan slipped in slyly.  
  
“The Senate does not take orders by the very meaning of its existence,” Padmé replied somewhat defensively.  
  
“Chancellor Palpatine has taken more than a few liberties with the definition of the word.”  
  
“Which has not gone unnoticed. At least we question the Authority that rules us. If we had lightly considered each Bill the Chancellor has wished to pass, allowed each Amendment he has submitted we would be living in a very different Republic.”  
  
“I absolutely agree, Senator, but we have digressed into politics. A realm in which, I’m afraid I am unlikely ever to agree with you. The High Council is not an authority of itself, they listen merely to the Force and do as it wishes.”  
  
Padmé sighed tightly, expelling her exasperation and frustration. He had entered into the realms of the ethereal, where she could not follow. It was something she could neither confirm or deny. “That has always been the defence of all the questionable actions of the Jedi.”  
  
“It is the reason we are here.”  
  
“But what about the life you’re missing because of your greater purpose. What if there was something else, some other way things could have turned out? Don’t you ever wonder?” she questioned a little desperately, her tone pleading with him to consider an alternate reality, an alternate life.  
  
He obliged her, seeming to take an age to answer. His eyes seemed to search for the answer in the now soggy path beneath their feet but judging by the length of time before he spoke again, its answers were muddied at best. “I have, on occasion, wondered what would of happened had I not been brought to the Temple.”  
  
His words seemed to reveal something deep within himself that he wasn’t accustomed to showing. Confirmation that they repress thoughts and feelings that do not fit their customs and ideals, Padmé thought. “Do you remember anything before the Jedi?”  
  
He gave a single nod, though his head tipped up rather than downwards. “Yes, a few things. Very blurry,” he had re-found himself and was no longer lost in thought. “Being here reminds me of it actually,” he revealed. “It was much like this. Green. Grasslands, as far as the horizon, and even beyond.” Padmé watched him carefully. “I remember my brother,” his eyes brows lowered as he strived, squinted to see the memory.  
  
“Don’t you miss him? Miss it?” she questioned, wondering at the change she’d seen in the man.  
  
“I feel little for the memory,” he answered. “It is only a fleeting picture of what might or might not have been. I could have completely formulated it myself. Imagined it for so long that I can no longer separate the extrapolation from fact.”  
  
“Don’t you ever wonder what else you could have been?” then her voice softened. “Who else?”  
  
“Not really,” he answered, and she could see the truth in his eyes. Why would he lie? “I am very happy in the life I lead now. And for all the failings of the Jedi- which there are, I’m not blind to our mistakes and misconceptions- they offer a haven for Force-Sensitives.”  
  
They walked in silence for a minute, Padmé absorbing and considering Obi-Wan’s words. They lay heavy in her mind, the weight of his first-hand experience giving them all the more power. A thought occurred to her. “How do you stop yourself from becoming attached? The bond between a Master and his apprentice must be very strong if they face such terrible dangers together.”  
  
“Indeed it is. And it’s something that the Order only tolerates due to necessity. Such a strong bond is dangerous. Pardon me,” he said, correcting himself, raising a hand as if to erase his previous words, “in reality, it is Master Yoda who tolerates it, as past Orders have not implemented the rule."  
  
“You mean it hasn’t always been like this?” Padmé asked. She’d been unaware; she hadn’t even considered the possibility of it being different in the past.  
  
“Not at all, just for a very long time. Several centuries; it is Master Yoda’s rule. However, it is one that I fully agree with.” His nod was heavy and he met her eyes as he spoke the words and she wondered at the meaning of his assured agreement.  
  
“And why is that, Master Jedi?”  
  
He gave a small smirk, but his eyes did not smile, and she knew his mirth to be false. It wasn’t an intentional deception however, just a self-deprecating action. “We all have our weaknesses. I am lucky enough to know mine.”  
  
She was intrigued, and focused utterly on him, tripped as they moved onto the lush grass that spread out before the lakes. His hand was extended to catch her before she even realised she was falling. A murmur of a question and she gratefully brushed of his concern with a smile and a squeeze of his heavy hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene from something much longer that I've been planning on writing for a very long time. Its probably going to take an even longer time before the full piece of work comes to fruition, and I've always liked this piece, and it can stand-alone, as a piece of meta-fic, and maybe even a character study.


End file.
